Worth Dying For
by Shirasaka Konoe
Summary: And in the end, Sandy wouldn't even think twice to admit that Pitch was indeed worth dying for. Sandy/Pitch a.k.a Quicksand. PWP maybe? Originally for a rotgkink prompt, but I'm lazy to put the link in here. Enjoy, and no flame! :D


**Title:** Worth Dying For

**Summary: **And in the end, Sandy wouldn't even think twice to admit that Pitch was indeed worth dying for.

**Pairing:** Sandy/Pitch a.k.a Quicksand. Yep.

**Rate: **M. I repeat that. **M people~! It's rated M~!**

**Disclaimer: **It pains me too much, so I'll make it short. Do. Not. Own. Anything. And not making any profit either (except for the review that I hope I would get).

**Rambling:** Ohkay… as much as I hat to admit, I still haven't yet grasp the picture of tiny Sandman with Pitch, so I went there and use the tall Sandy version. Can be found in: ( .net (slash) 1393153) for those who are interested in seeing the him that I used in this story.

And the prompt exactly stated to make it like legs and ass worshipping, but I think I ruined that.

I'm sorry if I disappoint you, but I still hope you can still enjoy this story.

Off you go~! :D

* * *

First, it would start by a sensual lick on the shoulder. Then it would travel downward to the ashen gray chest. Later would be the flat stomach, the slender thighs, the calves, and a bit of teasing to the crotch—only a ghosting touch—and it would only go down further until it reached the toes.

The big toe would get the attention first, a little licking, then a bit sucking, and, lastly, peppers of biting. Then the gaps between the toes would also get their share of attention. The pink tongue would slide, hot and ticklish, between the toes and teasing a bit, and after the toes was the underside of the feet.

After the feet got their share, the act would go upward, stopping by the waist line, only to go down again, to the thighs, tracing fingers on the thin hips, then to the thighs again, and finally it settled on the entire long, lower limbs.

The touches were made as if it was an act of worship.

Well, it was, as the matter of fact, act of worship.

Sandy would kiss and shower the limbs with so much affection. He held one ashen calve with his hands and he would nuzzle the backside of the knee with this cheek. And lick and bite and suck whenever he felt like it.

The attention on the backside of the knee never failed him to get the reaction he wanted. The man sitting naked on the edge of the bed would give away a startled moan or a sharp intake of air, or, if he was lucky, both, one after another.

Then after he considered the work was well done (indicated by Pitch's trembling body), he would go up and catch those thin lips in a kiss. Slowly, Sandy put the slender legs on his shoulders, pushed Pitch down to the bed and started to work his fingers between the buttocks. One knee between Pitch's, one hand beside Pitch's head, propping himself up as he prodded the entrance with his middle finger, hard but not enough to penetrate, watching from the distance where he could clearly drink the view of Pitch's knitted brows, half closed eyes filled with desire, sweat layered neck, heaving chest, clenched stomach, and the taut mounts with his own finger working between them, teasing and prodding just enough to make the gray cock twitch from anticipation.

He pushed inside slowly; watching the man beneath him shuddered involuntarily. After all, the Nightmare King _was_ the Nightmare King. He would never shudder voluntarily. If Sandy didn't push any more finger inside, that was.

"Ahh!" the loud cry accompanied the shudder as he stretched the tight ring of muscle by the King's entrance. His two fingers inside Pitch would go deeper, scissoring, rubbing, curling, joined by one more eager finger, rubbing again, curling again, shoved deep inside, rubbing, and only went deeper until they reached the treasure they were meant to reach. When it came to this, Pitch would moan uncontrollably, writhing under underneath him, and wrapped his fingers around Sandy's blonde mane. His legs would tighten on Sandy's shoulder, and the Sandman would feel himself getting impossibly harder from that alone.

Sandy teased and abused the bundle of nerves until Pitch was screaming in ecstasy as he reached his climax, back arching violently, white seeds splattered across his stomach and chest. Sometimes, tough, it would go as far to his face, but not in this current position, of course.

But that was for another time.

The dream weaver leaned down and started licking the white fluid clean. And then he flipped Pitch onto his stomach gently, nudging him to lift his ass up in the air. The Boogeyman complied because he knew what would come after this.

The worship act again.

No king was able to resist that.

The two warm hands kneaded the cheeks and spread them apart, revealing the wet, red entrance twitching with need. A lick just a bit above the hole, to the skin under it, a long lick tracing the crack, followed by biting on the mounds, kisses all over, warm caresses, and finally, the tongue dipped into the hot insides. Pitch squirmed as he tried to get more of it inside but getting none of what he wanted. Sandy pulled back and traced his hands along the long legs again, admiring how perfectly flawless they were.

He went back to giving the needy consort what he wanted after one desperate moan from Pitch. With a silent chuckle, he dipped his tongue inside again, savoring the taste on his tongue as he probed deeper. It was like licking a newly made apple caramel. Hot, sweet, and smooth against his tongue. He'd probably get addicted to it.

The tongue wasn't as long as the fingers, so it didn't really get to his sweet spot. But it was enough to drive him over the edge as Sandy pulled out completely and dipped inside almost instantly after giving the firm cheek a good slap that left a reddish mark on it and soothed the slight burning with his tongue. Why would he slap it if he was so in love with it to the point where he would die for it, you say? Because, according to his weird logic and all, worshipping something needed a reason. He just loved to chase the pain away and watch the discomfort on Pitch's face ceased.

And as for this, he mused in his head as he positioned his rock-hard erection on Pitch's entrance, was because he loved how tight the Boogeyman's inside around him.

He pushed inside and Pitch moaned at the intrusion. The gray thin fingers clutched the sweat drenched sheet, the lithe body writhed in pleasure, and the legs jerked with toes curled—also in pleasure.

"Sandy… please…" the two words slipped past the King's thin lips, red from biting to hold the moan.

And Sandy was more than happy to comply.

Whenever Sandy bucked his hips forward, Pitch moved backward in almost sloppy manners, driving the Sandman's length to go deeper than he intended to, much to Pitch's delight. His hole was abused in such a good way that he would cherish the feeling of not being able to walk for days.

"More, Sandy… give me more… _ah_…"

Who was Sandy to deny such encouragement?

He picked up his pace, and soon Pitch wasn't able to keep up. He just laid there, body moving forward when Sandy pushed in and backward when the other pulled out.

Somehow, he didn't hate the feeling of helplessness.

A golden stream of sand wrapped around his cock, preventing him from coming because Sandy wanted this to last even a bit longer. He didn't mind.

Butterfly kisses were descended upon his back, a loving bite was placed on his nape, and there was also hungry nibbling at his earlobe.

He flipped Pitch over again, and he admitted that he loved to see the other in such state. Pitch only pouted slightly and asked him to move. There was, of course, a brief smile ghosting over the thin lips of this lovely spirit beneath him. But he wouldn't tell that he saw it. It would only made Pitch closed himself for weeks out of embarrassment, and none of them would want that.

He moved again, loving how Pitch was caught in surprise as he did. The gray flesh between them was now adorned with a shade of purplish red and Sandy knew that it was getting too much for the King of Nightmare. He picked up his pace again, driving himself in and out of Pitch's hole. The fear spirit's thin arms tangled to his neck.

"Ah, ah…! Oh… Sandy… again! Ah!"

Sandy leaned down and kissed Pitch again, drinking all the moans and screams and cries and whatever that came out from that hot mouth from pleasure. Then he let the golden ring around Pitch's cock disperse. Pitch's eyes were wide as the pressure on his cock was relieved in such a short time. His cum splashed in white streams, probably it was three climaxes worth of cum. His inside tightened and his legs found their way to Sandy's waist and wrapped tightly around it. That was enough to pushed Sandy, far sooner that the blonde expected, over the edge too. He growled (the only sound he ever made) lowly in his throat and pushed as deep as possible and let his essence fill Pitch's inside, flooding it with warm seeds that might possibly get him pregnant (that was what Pitch always said after their encounter).

After that, they would lay silently in each other's embrace, basking in the afterglow. And when Pitch drifted to sleep with a slight curve on his lips, Sandy wouldn't even think twice to admit that Pitch was indeed worth dying for.

* * *

**END**

* * *

Oh, my… what have I made? *giggle fit*

Okay, I'm sorry that I made it like Sandy was having feet fetish moment rather than worshipping the (super-duper-extra-yummy) legs. And I think I also messed up some grammars somewhere above. TTATT

But I don't regret making this.

Still hoping you enjoy this even for a bit~! :D


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